


Tony Does Not Have Daddy Issues (But Everybody Else Does)

by romanoff



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Babies, Baby Mutants, Established Relationship, Everyone Has Issues, Kid!Fic, M/M, Mother Issues, Mutants, Tony Finds A Baby, Tony Stark Has Daddy Issues, brother issues, mention of alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 18:33:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1479799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanoff/pseuds/romanoff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark Does Not Have Daddy Issues.</p><p>Until he finds a baby. Then he has daddy issues.</p><p>It doesn't go well for anyone involved. Except the baby.</p><p>“Jesus Christ!” Clint shouts and presses the com in his ear “Natasha, Stark’s on the run. And he’s got a baby.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tony Does Not Have Daddy Issues (But Everybody Else Does)

**Author's Note:**

> Something light-hearted with actual light-hearted, not even real, angst.
> 
> There's a first time for everything.
> 
> Okay, so maybe the angst is a little bit real.

The battle had been long. It had been hard. No innuendo intended, but Tony had been pounding it out for the best past of day, evacuating civilians while the gelatinous mass they’d been trying to put down rolled over buildings and people. Nobody actually died because, would you believe, jelly _isn’t_ actually that much of a threat, but the Avenger’s put their best foot forward as usual, trying to stop the villainous dollop from decimating a small town in Arizona 

Not that it could really be stopped; Tony spent a _lot_ of time evacuating the inhabitants and just a little firing repulsers at the blob for the sake of it. Right up until it was discovered that the mass was actually water soluble, at which point he was commandeered to do some actual work and had to haul water into the air in order to disintegrate it from the skies while the rest of the team roped in the volunteer firemen to spray the rest of it down.

So, although he was left tired and sticky, it could be argued that it had been a good day. He was kinda looking forward to heading back, though. Kinda hoping nothing else would come up. Kinda hoping he could just get out of this suit and kick back, maybe beat one out in his jacuzzi and then sleep for a long, long, time because he had been up for about 43 hours and yes, contrary to popular belief, he does get tired.

Except.

Except when he lands, repulsers cutting off in a swish of hot air and feet hitting the ground with a clank, he’s halfway to taking off the rest of his suit when he hears a cry.

A little wail.

The metal slides off his body and he moves carefully through upturned garbage and slush to a car where a little boy, a baby, bangs a little fists against the window pane.

He’s crying. He’d just been left. Someone had gotten out of the car, left the door open, and run off, leaving their baby to just sit there and cry. That’s not right. That’s not right at all. Who could leave their child alone in a car while a gelatinous cube made their way down the street, who would just _leave_ a little baby all on their own?

Tony knocks against the window to get their attention and the baby looks his way, still bawling. Tony swings round in the passenger seat, looks down at the little boy, makes shushing noises.

“Hey, shh, hey, it’s okay, I’ll get you out…”

He’s probably hungry, or needs a change, or whatever it is babies need, Tony doesn’t actually know. What he does know is that when he drags the kid into his arms that this baby is no ordinary baby.

This baby is _his_ baby.

Physically, okay fine, they don’t exactly look alike. The little tot has wide blue eyes, perfect pearly skin, blonde, angelic curls. But that doesn’t matter. Tony just _knows._

He holds him in his arms, stares at him with wonderment. He’s so _small,_ he must be at least nine months, no more than a year, definitely. And he is _his,_ Tony is sure of this more than he has ever been sure of anything in his entire life. 

He suddenly feels the need to sing, to exclaim because _this is his baby._ He wants to find Steve, he needs to tell him that he’s found him and he needs to get Steve to understand that this baby is most definitely his.

He balances the kid in one arm as he tugs at his hair and uses the other to search the backseat for supplies. People usually do that, right? They carry supplies with them. He carefully carries the bundle out of the car and flips open the trunk with one hand. He doesn’t want to put him down because you never know, he could disappear, and ground’s dirty anyway.

He finds a carry bag with some solids and diapers, some clothes and a pacifier. Should babies be using them at this age? He doesn’t know. Oh well, doesn’t matter, the kid can do what he wants.

He searches for a name and finds one scribbled in sharpie on a sticky label, “Jimmy.”

That’s a good name, Tony would name his son that.

He hoists the bag onto his shoulder and puts the baby on his hip. He needs to find the others, he didn’t have a chance to tell them where he was before he de-suited. He should probably explain to Steve that they have a baby now, but he doesn’t think he’ll mind.

 

* * *

“It’s a baby, Stark. And you’re holding it the wrong way round. 

Tony frowns at the bundle in his arms “No, no I saw them do it this way on TV once.”

“I’m pretty sure the head is supposed to be facing _up,_ actually,” Steve interjects.

Tony scowls “It is— oh, okay, I see,” he concedes, flipping the plump pile of limbs in his arms so it’s head lies on his shoulder “fine, okay, don’t look at me like that.”

Bruce looks uneasy “Maybe… maybe I should hold it?” he reaches but Tony twirls, fast and snatches it from his grasp.

“No,” he pouts “it’s mine.”

Clint raises an eyebrow, squints “Uh, no. No, it’s not.”

“For the purpose of this exercise _yes_ it is.” Tony growls, bouncing the baby on his shoulder. It gurgles happily, pounds it’s little fists in the air and giggles.

“See?” Tony smiles “He _likes_ me, yes he does, _yes he does._ ” He draws the baby back and looks into its round blue eyes, speaks in a sickening tone.

Bruce mumbles something under his breath and crosses his arms.

“ _What was that?”_ Tony snaps and Bruce looks at him with narrowed eyes.

“Nothing. I just don’t see why Tony has to hog the baby.”

“Because it’s _my_ baby, Steve, honey, tell Brucie it’s my baby.” He looks at him under his lashes and grins, the baby laughing and blowing a raspberry.

“I don’t think I can do that, sweetie.” Steve looks uncomfortable.

“Well, that’s fine, I don’t _need you_ anyway. I can just— I’ll take it myself.”

“Tony… you can’t _take_ that baby, it’s not yours.” Bruce reaches forward as if to take it away and Tony snarls.

“ _No,_ what do you think you’re doing? This is _mine,”_ and then he tone changes into that ridiculous cooing and he noses at the baby “aren’t you? Aren’t you?” his voice is high and falsetto “Yes you _are,_ yes you are,” he grins.

“Yeah, Natasha?” Clint presses the pager in his ear “Stark found a baby.” He shakes his head “No, I don’t know, you should ask him,” he looks up “Hey Tony, Natasha asks, and I quote “what the fuck d’you think you’re playing at?”

Tony gapes at him, covers the kids ears with a palm “ _What is wrong with you?”_ He hisses “You can’t _swear_ in front of the kid.”

They stare at him. Steve blinks.

Clint nods, pages Natasha “Yeah, okay, he’s lost his mind.”

Tony cradles the baby in his arms and giggles when it reaches up to tug at his hair. He blows on it’s face and it squirms, laughs, clunks it’s little fist against the side of his head.

“His names Jimmy,” Tony says wistfully “and he’s _mine.”_

Steve swallows and shares a tense look with Bruce “Uh, no? No, no, I don’t think so Tony.” He says carefully.

Tony frowns “This is my baby,” he murmurs “he’s mine. He wants me.”

Clint rolls his eyes “Okay, well, if these two are happy to let this crack-show continue then fine but the rest of us need to get back. Stark, we’ll drop the baby at the town hall, they’ll find it’s parents.” Clint makes to leave but is stopped by, _Jesus,_ a rock which comes sailing out of nowhere and hits him on the shoulder.

He turns “What the _fuck_ Stark? What was that?” He growls.

“Don’t talk about him like that, he’s not a _parcel_ you can’t just _dump_ him. He’s _mine,_ Clint, he’s coming with me.” Tony says, indignant.

“Tony,” Bruce says slowly “are you drunk?”

Tony blanches “I would never be drunk in front of Jimmy,”

“I’m not saying you would,” Bruce shoots more glances at Steve “but you know he’s not your baby, right? You know he has parents?”

Tony shakes his head “No,” he says exasperated “it’s _my_ baby. His parents left him and I found him, Christ, it’s not difficult to understand,” he smiles and rubs his cheek against Jimmy, shuts his eyes “he _wants_ me.”

“Tony,” Clint growls “that is a _baby._ It doesn’t want _anything.”_

Steve holds out a hand as if the hold the tension of an increasingly irritable Clint at bay “I think what he means,” he says with a pointed look at Barton “is that the parents probably had to run when the blob attacked and left the baby by accident,” he looks at Tony imploringly “look, honey, it’s obviously well cared for. They must love him very much and are probably worried. You should give him back.” He smiles his most convincing smile, gently eases closer.

Tony backs up “ _No.”_ He says “Jimmy _found_ me, why aren’t you _listening,”_ Tony’s voice is earnest, yet also urgent, as if what he’s saying makes perfect sense and the others are just refusing to listen.

“I— maybe he’s sick,” Bruce murmurs out the corner of his mouth “Hey Tony,” he says louder “are you feeling okay? Did you feel ill at all this morning?”

Tony shakes his head happily, bounces the baby in his arms “Nope.”

“Okay, maybe hallucinogens,” Clint mumbles back “Say, Stark, did you eat anything funny today?”

Tony sighs “ _No,_ I’m not ill, I can hear you you know.” He shakes his head again “You’re not listening, this baby is _mine_ because it chose me, why would I make that up?”

“You know Tony,” Steve says weakly “if you want kids we can always look into adopting—”

“I don’t want kids,” he snaps “I want _this_ kid.”

“Oh my god he’s finally lost it,” Clint sighs and Steve shoots him an evil glare 

“Jimmy _told me,_ that he _wants me._ You can’t just _ignore that!_ ” Tony is fighting to keep his voice level.

“Okay, okay, and the baby told you this did he?” Steve asks worriedly, not that Tony notices.

He nods and continues to rock the child in his arms.

“What else did the baby tell you exactly? The secret to enlightenment?” Clint throws back.

“I don’t think you’re taking this seriously,” Tony says, a little desperate “Steve, please, you’re not listening, this is my kid,” he smiles, exhales incredulously “I just… I just know. He told me he wants me to be his dad, why would I lie?”

“Tony, if that’s your kid it means you have to have _slept_ with someone at least eighteen months ago,” Bruce speaks carefully “did you? Did you cheat on Steve?”

Tony rolls his eyes “Jesus, Banner, I know I’m not the _biological_ father. I _know_ that. But Jimmy said he wants me to be his dad, now.” He nods, smiles, as if that clears everything up.

“Tony,” Steve says quietly “babies can’t talk.”

Tony shakes his head, whispers knowingly “No, I know, he said it in my mind.” 

“Right, okay give me the baby, Stark,” Clint orders, moving fast “your husband’s lost it, Steve.”

“No!” Tony cries, and he turns, bracing his back and hunching over Jimmy “No! You can’t have him! He’s mine! He doesn’t have a dad so _I_ can be his dad, I can, no! Get away!” He screams at Clint and peddles backwards.

Clint advances carefully, he doesn’t want to startle him and make him drop the baby “Come on Tony,” he pleads “we both know that’s not your kid. It’s real parents will be worried.”

Tony continues moving backwards down the deserted street.

“It’s not like you ever _wanted_ kids,” Clint continues “you always said you’d be a terrible father—”

“Is that it?” He whispers, looking at Steve “You don’t think I’ll be good dad? I can be a good dad. I can do everything, I’ll play with him, and I’ll take him to school, and I’ll read stories and if he hurts himself I’ll make sure he doesn’t cry. I just— I _can_ be a good dad, you know that right?” He cocks his head to the side, looks at Steve questioningly.

“Uh, sure Tony,” Steve says weakly “it’s not that. It’s just— that baby isn’t yours, you know that, sweetie. Please.”

“No,” Tony shakes his head “Jimmy told me he wanted me to be his daddy because he doesn’t have one.” Tony repeats adamantly.

“How about,” Bruce holds up his hands “we walk to the town centre. Tony, you can carry Jimmy the whole way there, okay? But when we find his mommy you’re gonna need to give him back.”

Tony looks around frantically “Jimmy says she might have been eaten by the jelly.”

“Hmm, no, somehow I don’t think Jimmy does say that, does he Tony?” Bruce puts his hands on his hips.

“Jimmy says he hates his mommy and that she’s awful and he’s been waiting for me to find him for months,” Tony insists desperately 

“You know,” Steve says thoughtfully “I don’t think he does.”

“Say Stark, does Jimmy know anything else? Hey Jimmy, what’s todays lottery numbers?”

Tony looks frantic “Stop it! Stop it, you’re making fun of me,” he covers Jimmy’s ears with his hand “don’t listen to them,” he whispers “they don’t understand.”

“Hey hey hey, Stark, woah, calm down,” Clint raises his hands in what’s supposed to be a pacifying gesture but makes Tony jump back “Tony, look, we’re just kidding.”

“You,” Bruce says “ _you_ were just kidding. The rest of us are taking this very seriously.”

“Tony, please,” Steve says, moving closer “please, sweetie, give the baby to me. You’re scaring me a bit, you know,” he tries a laugh “come on, we’ll talk about this later. Give me the kid now and I won’t give it back to his mom until we’ve talked it over, promise.”

He shakes his head in anguish “You’re _lying,_ Steve. I’m not stupid, I can tell you’re lying,” his eyes widen and he whispers “you’re going to take him from me,” he covers Jimmy’s head with his palm “you can’t take my son from me, you can’t do that, you’re Captain _America._ ”

“Tony,” Clint grits “that is not your _son.”_

Tony bolts.

“ _Jesus Christ!”_ Clint shouts and presses the com in his ear “Natasha, Stark’s on the run and he’s _got a baby.”_

Steve gives pursuit, and he is faster than Tony, but Tony knows this and he ducks into an alleyway. Steve assumes it’s going to be a dead end but Tony obviously saw something he didn’t, like the drop down ladder that leads up onto the fire escape of a building, all the way up to the roof.

Clint swears “Natasha, he’s got a baby and he’s taking it on a _roof.”_

Tony is climbing but Steve manages to grab into the end of the ladder before he’s able to pull it up.

“Please, Tony,” Steve begs, one arms dangling as he tries to pull the ladder down out of Tony’s grasp “Jimmy could get _hurt_ if you do this, come on.”

“No, Steve,” Tony hisses “I won’t let you have him, he doesn’t want you, or his mom, he wants _me.”_

Tony rattles the ladder but Steve holds strong. Tony raises his foot, says an apologetic “sorry,” and then brings it down on Steve’s head, discombobulating him enough to knock him off the ladder.

Tony draws it up quickly with one hand so Steve can’t drag it back down, he’s tall, he’s just not _that_ tall.

“Tony!” He calls as his husband begins to climb the fire escape with a baby on his hip “Stop this, just think!” But Tony ignores him and continues climbing regardless.

“Shit,” he says under his breath and runs out the alley, turns. If he can get into the shop, make his way upstairs, maybe he’ll be able to make it before Tony.

“Steve!” Someone calls and when he turns he sees Natasha running forward with Thor following close behind “What the hell is happening?”

“Tony’s lost it,” Clint says from behind him “he thinks he’s that babies dad, claims that it’s talking to him.”

Natasha moves to reply but Thor holds up a hand “Never fear; I speak infant.”

Bruce nods “of course you do,” he murmurs to no one.

Steve shields his eyes to the sunlight and looks up where Tony is peering down at him from over the edge of the building. He ducks back when he realises Steve has seen and bits of gravel hit his face from where Tony’s foot has dislodged them.

“Oh god,” Bruce mumbles “he’s gonna drop the baby.”

“Nobody is dropping anything,” Steve insists “it must the jelly, it’s done something to his head. The fumes or something.”

“Right,” Clint says “that makes sense, because we’ve _all_ decided to become baby-snatchers.”

Thor hammers down the door and it splinters widely, falls down into what happens to be a music store.

“Please don’t break the pianos,” Natasha says as Steve barrels up the stairs.

“Tony!” He calls “Tony, come on,” but nobody replies and he batters down the door that leads to the roof with his shoulder.

“Tony, Tony hey!” He says, stopping short, wind whipping his hair “why don’t you get away from the edge, huh?” He turns back, looks down the stairwell “Bruce,” he hisses “I need you to hulk-out, wait in case he falls.” 

Bruce nods and jumps down a flight of stairs out back into the street as Steve turns back to Tony, forces a smile.

“Sweetie,” he starts “please come away from the edge? I’m worried you might… trip.”

The hulk roars and Jimmy squeals, buries his head into the crook of Tony’s neck. Tony sighs, shuts his eyes and presses his lips to the little blonde head.

“Stark, this is enough,” Natasha says forcefully “put the baby down.”

“Seconded,” Clint says, not so forcefully.

“Anthony, brother,” Thor says with an easy smile “let me talk with the boy, put the teams thoughts at ease.”

“You just want to take him from me,” Tony says dejectedly, stroking Jimmy’s hair “you don’t think I can be a good dad. Is it because my dad was bad? I don’t think it’s genetic.” He says confusedly.

“Yeah, but the alcoholism is,” Clint mutters and gets a smack around the back of the head from Natasha.

“Not at all, Tony,” Steve says “ _I_ think you’d be a great dad. I’d love to have kids with you,” he pauses, shakes his head “but Tony, not this kid.”

“Why not?” He asks petulantly “Jimmy wants me.”

Steve turns “Thor, does Jimmy want Tony?”

Jimmy gurgles and Thor considers.

“Ah,” he says softly “yes, I see.”

They wait.

“Uh Thor? Buddy, you gonna maybe… _answer_ that question?”

Thor looks around in surprise “Oh course, it is easy to forget that you do not have the power of all speak.”

“Thanks, buddy.” Clint grits out.

“Yes, the child has chosen Anthony to be it’s father,” he pauses “however, he recognises that this may cause trouble for him.” He laughs, claps Steve on the back.

“Does the baby mention _why?”_ Steve chokes out.

“Hold one moment, let me ask.” Thor stares intently at Jimmy and Tony holds him tighter.

Jimmy coughs.

Thor sighs “He says that he does _not_ have a father, but that he would greatly appreciate one. He says his mother fled during the attack but was swept away by the crowds before she could get him out. He realises that he has caused an severe amount of trouble for Mr Stark and yourselves and for that he is very sorry. However, he would like to add, Mr Stark is very warm and he likes his hugs.”

“Right,” Natasha says slowly “you hear that, Tony?” She calls “The baby is sorry for causing so much trouble, so you can let him go now.”

“No! No! Didn’t you hear? He wants a daddy, _I_ can be his daddy,” he says desperately “my dad was never there for me! I know what that’s like, I don’t want Jimmy to go through that, it’s not…” he shakes his head, searching “it’s not nice!”

“I know, sweetie,” Steve says softly “but you can’t steal someone else's baby.”

Tony shakes his head defiantly “No,” he says, and takes a step back, nearly loses his balance on a stone and falls over the edge.

“Jesus, Tony! Stop!” Steve steps forward and Tony edges just a little further back. Steve can hear the gravel crunch as it hits the gutter on the side of the building.

“Tony, this isn’t _you,_ come on,” he looks at Thor “ _do something.”_

Thor looks strained “Jimmy— Jimothy—”

“I think it’s James, actually,” Clint interjects.

“James, please release Mr Stark from your hold. He is an innocent man.”

“From his hold,” Natasha spits “what _hold_ he is a _baby.”_

Thor blinks “He is a mutant.”

They groan collectively.

“I apologise, I thought you were aware.”

Steve sighs. At least he knows Tony isn’t insane.

“Tony,” he tries “why don’t you come here so we can look at the baby together. I am married to you, you know, I need to hold my son.”

Tony’s face brightens, although it is still wary “Are you sure?”

He sighs “Of course I’m sure, 100%. Just bring him here and let me see.” 

Tony eyes the group warily “They have to stay back.”

Clint shrugs “That’s fine with us.”

“I’ll meet you half-way, sweetie.”

Tony edges forward and the team holds their breath. James buries himself back into his neck.

“Ah, ah, actually no, I don’t think so,” Tony says and the team exhales loudly, a sigh in unison.

“What’s the baby telling you, Stark?” Clint grumbles.

“He says that Steve’s tricking me,” and Tony looks so betrayed that for a moment Steve is almost sorry.

“That is… that is a smart baby.” Natasha says appreciatively.

“Smarter than Stark.” Clint dead-pans and Natasha slaps the back of his head again.

Steve puts his head in his hands “Tony, please,” he starts “we are _tired,_ we are _hungry._ We want to go _home._ You know what I think, sweetie? I think _you_ want to go home as well. We can get some burgers, yes? You like that.” Steve shakes his head.

“Tony for the love of God please, put. The baby. Down.” Clint grits out “We can discuss your daddy issues later, preferably over pizza. Or in a hot tub,” he sighs “I’m not choosy.”

“Thor, tell the baby to let Tony go?” Steve concedes.

“Little James, I demand that release Anthony from under your thrall at once.”

Jimmy blows a raspberry into Tony’s neck.

Thor nods gravely “I see.” 

He turns to the others “He demands gifts,” he announces and the team watches where Tony tickles his stomach.

“Tell him that if he doesn’t let Tony go we’ll push both of them off the building.” Clint states and Natasha whacks him on the back of the head for the third time, much to his chagrin.

“What does he want?” Steve asks, ever the diplomat.

Thor pauses, waits, nods his head.

“He demands ice-cream,”

Natasha nods “We can do that,” and the group murmurs assent.

“Also that Tony remains his protector for the rest of his life.”

“Okay, no, that’s enough. Bruce?” Steve shouts.

The Hulk roars.

“Okay, Hulk, I hope you’re ready to catch.”

“Jimmy says that he knows you shall not follow through with this plan for fear of hurting your,” Thor frowns “… precious Tony.”

“That’s cute.” Steve dead-pans.

And then he runs at Tony and pushes him off the side.

 

* * *

“So, I admit, it was not my finest hour,” Tony says over a box of pizza.

The teams nods and makes affirmative noises around him. They’re seated at a round table in a deserted Italian joint in the town. They had returned Jimmy to his mother sometime after hitting Tony in the head hard enough to dislodge whatever effect Jimmy’s mutation was having.

“But I think we can all agree that it was worth the show,” Clint concedes.

Tony nods in his direction, raises his diet Coke “To daddy issues,” he toasts.

“To daddy issues,” they chorus back.

“Aye,” Thor says, a little out of time “you cannot blame yourself for what that child inflicted. My own brother was similar when he was younger.”

“Is this something we need to know?” Clint says, seriously “I mean, should we put that kid down now before he grows up and decides to become a homicidal maniac?”

Natasha appears for a moment to be weighing in the possibilities until Steve clears things up with a resounding “No.”

“Well,” Bruce says “let’s be honest, it could have been any of us.”

Again, they murmur in agreement.

“I mean, Loki’s a bit different, obviously,” Clint says “that’s brother issues. Which, by the way, _I_ would know all about.”

The table sighs and Thor raises his glass “To brother issues,” he says.

“To brother issues,” they chant back.

“God, we’re a fucked up bunch,” Tony grumbles into his non-alcoholic drink 

“Hmm,” Steve says, uninterested “you are.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow “Excuse me?”

Steve blinks, waves a hand tiredly “Daddy issues,” he mumbles.

Clint snorts “Right, like you don’t have issues.”

Steve shrugs “I guess not.”

“ _Mother issues,”_ Natasha whispers loudly before hiding her face with a slice of pizza.

“Now, _that_ I can get behind,” Bruce agrees.

“To mother issues,” Clint holds up his glass.

“Mother issues,” they drone.

“But I mean,” Clint grins “we are _all here_ because Tony got fucked over by a baby.”

“That… that, no.” Tony says “That is, that is _not_ what happened—”

Natasha frowns “Then what happened exactly?”

There’s quiet over the table. Drinks stop clinking, people stop chewing.

Tony stops, weighs in his options.

Then he sighs, gets out the thin hip flask he keeps in his pocket and tips vodka into his drink.

“Daddy issues,” he toasts.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are GREATLY APPRECIATED and if you have any questions or prompts find me on MY NEW writing blog [romanoff](http://writingromanoff.tumblr.com/)


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